


Fish Out of Water

by orphan_account



Category: Super Junior
Genre: AU, Dubious Consent, Gunplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 16:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4794587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Youngwoon's plans for a night enjoying his favorite local singer go awry, and it turns out that there's more to Ryeowook than meets the eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fish Out of Water

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the "Devil" MV. Ryeowook just looked so adorable with his gun that I wanted to write some gunplay, but it came out far less consensual than I'd originally intended.

Youngwoon’s ordering a scotch at the bar when the music starts playing, but he doesn’t turn to watch right away, even though the singer is why he’s here. He doesn’t need to be facing the singer to appreciate Kim Ryeowook’s voice, anyway, and he’s not here because Ryeowook is pretty.

It’s not something he gets to indulge in often; Youngwoon would be an easy target if he made appearing wherever Ryeowook was singing a routine. 

Ryeowook’s delicate voice is always out of place in the bars he plays in, mostly dives in rough neighborhoods. As far as Youngwoon can tell, he’ll show up anywhere that has a piano on the premises. His presence is rarely formally advertised, if ever, but the bartenders are always happy to tell Youngwoon when he’ll be around next. Several even seem to know where else he’ll be playing. 

Somehow the bars’ patrons never complain, even though most of Ryeowook’s audiences, wearing their get-laid outfits, probably weren’t looking to spend their evening being serenaded by a young man who treats the bars’ tiny upright pianos like something much fancier. The nights Ryeowook is around are oddly subdued—people either watch him sing or hit on each other quietly, having soft conversations before they leave together. Youngwoon has never seen a brawl break out while Ryeowook has been singing, even though he’s witnessed (and participated in) countless brawls in the very same bars. 

When Youngwoon finally takes a break from chatting up the woman next to him and turns to look, Ryeowook is wearing a gray three-piece suit over a black shirt. The suit jacket fits far too nicely for someone who makes a living singing in this part of town, and Ryeowook himself looks far too kind and pretty. His hair is a soft, dark brown and impeccably styled, and he’s wearing tasteful eyeliner that adds to the sharp effect of his cheekbones and his overall slight figure to make him look a bit like something out of a fairy tale. 

He wasn’t always pretty. When they first met, Ryeowook was about as chubby as Youngwoon. He did always look kind, though, and Youngwoon had wondered at the time how a sweet kid like him ever survived at their school. 

They met in an extracurricular musical group as kids, one of those things well-meaning adults came up with to keep kids like Youngwoon off the street, like there had ever been any hope of that. Ryeowook was several years younger than Youngwoon and more serious about singing, so they hadn’t really run in the same circles. The impression that Youngwoon got the few times they did interact was that Ryeowook was every bit as nice as he looked and an extremely good singer.

He’d always thought that Ryeowook could easily be a professional singer when he grew up, assuming he could make it out of their neighborhood with his soul intact. Maybe not a famous pop singer, not without losing some weight, but a serious professional nonetheless. So it’s all the more perplexing that Ryeowook still chooses to play at these places, now that he’s slender and pretty (or at least knows how to apply makeup to make himself look pretty).

In an unusual turn of events, Ryeowook doesn’t seem to have been booked for the whole night. He’s followed on stage by a beautiful young woman with long black hair and a short skirt who begins singing a ballad no less out of place than Ryeowook’s had been.

Ryeowook spots Youngwoon at the bar as he orders a drink and gives him a smile and a wave, and Youngwoon smiles back. It’s not the first time that Ryeowook has spotted him, but they rarely speak to each other. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Youngwoon notices that Ryeowook settles at a table by himself, oddly not facing his replacement. Youngwoon can’t imagine why Ryeowook would stick around if not to appreciate the other singer, and he keeps Ryeowook’s table in the corner of his eye just in case anyone unsavory approaches it. 

But it’s Ryeowook himself whose behavior catches Youngwoon’s attention. He appears to be surveying the room, frowning. His posture is tense, and he hasn’t let go of his drink for several minutes. It could be that he’s used to fending off unwanted attention in these places, Youngwoon supposes, but then he wouldn’t have stuck around. 

It’s so strange that, when the whole bar falls into chaos, one of Youngwoon’s guns is instantly trained on Ryeowook, instinctively certain that Ryeowook has something to do with this.

He’s not even sure what’s going on. Fists are flying, weapons being drawn and fired, but there’s no clear cause for it all, or even a focal point for the action; people are attacking the people nearest to them, mostly, although Hyukjae’s gun is pointing between Youngwoon and Ryeowook and across the room. Youngwoon doesn’t even remember seeing Hyukjae enter the bar. In the background, the woman with the long black hair is still singing her sad love song.

Weirdest of all is that Ryeowook is pointing a gun at Youngwoon. 

His earlier misgivings slide into concern for himself. Had some rival of his noticed his attraction to Ryeowook’s singing after all? Was it possible that someone hired Ryeowook to take him down? He thought he’d been careful to make his bar appearances seem random, but he also knows he’s not always the smartest person around.

The sound of Hyukjae firing his gun is almost deafening, as close as he is to Youngwoon, but the agitation drains out of Youngwoon as soon as it ends. His mind fills with an odd fog that he won’t notice until later, when he’ll wonder why he didn’t wonder who Hyukjae had just shot. 

“Who gave you one of these?” Youngwoon asks, reaching to take the gun from Ryeowook’s hand without lowering his own. The thought of Ryeowook ever actually shooting a gun is so preposterous that it barely crosses Youngwoon’s mind, but it still strikes him as odd that Ryeowook even has a gun. Who could Ryeowook belong to, that he’s so sharply dressed and packing heat? 

Ryeowook doesn’t resist at all as Youngwoon takes possession of the cold piece of metal, but he also doesn’t look concerned about this turn of events. He meets Youngwoon’s gaze with the same warm, even look he gives everyone. In an oddly sing-song voice, he says, “Youngwoon-hyung.”

There’s no reason for a simple greeting from an old acquaintance to make Youngwoon shiver like he does, or to make him pass Ryeowook’s gun off to a perplexed Hyukjae. And yet that’s what he does, even though he should be wondering who Hyukjae just shot and why. 

Gun trained on Ryeowook, Youngwoon walks forward until the muzzle presses against Ryeowook’s forehead. Ryeowook gasps, and the sound sends a frisson of pleasure through Youngwoon. His vision zeroes in on Ryeowook. In an instant, the lithe figure he was idly admiring earlier becomes the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. He’d give anything to hear Ryeowook gasp again, or to figure out how to squeeze pretty moans from his lips.

Grasping one of Ryeowook’s wrists, he spins Ryeowook around to pin it behind his back. With a nudge of the tip of his gun against the skin on the back of Ryeowook’s neck, he barks an order. “Outside.”

Ryeowook’s body shudders under his arm as Youngwoon nudges him in the direction of the back door, away from the road and prying eyes.

The alley on the other side of the door is narrow and empty. The only things breaking up the stark brick walls and pavement are graffiti and trashcans, with scattered bits of trash that didn’t make it into the bins lying on the ground. Up above are the rickety, rusting balconies of a once-grand apartment building, but these are mostly empty, save for a bit of laundry here and there. 

One stretch of brick wall is as good as another, so Youngwoon tugs Ryeowook to a patch well away from any doors and spins him around again, pushing the wrist he’s still holding against Ryeowook’s stomach to back him up against a block of graffiti that reads “VICE SQUAD” in bubbly green three-foot-tall letters.

Ryeowook looks up at Youngwoon, lips parted and panting, and then toward the gun that Youngwoon brings back up to point at his temple. He lets out a little moan that sends another jolt of arousal running through Youngwoon. Youngwoon curses. 

“You like that?” He asks, trailing the tip of his gun down Ryeowook’s cheek. Ryeowook stiffens against the wall and keens. Eyelids drifting closed, his lips wrap around the gun without any protest when Youngwoon presses it against his mouth, sucking at it like it’s a cock whose owner he’s desperately trying to please. Little whimpers drip from his mouth, garbled by the piece of metal he’s working around. 

Youngwoon releases Ryeowook’s wrist to crowd against his body, shoving a knee between Ryeowook’s legs to get closer. He uses his free hand to rub lightly at Ryeowook’s cock through his pants, and Ryeowook moans around the gun in his mouth and ruts up against his hand. He wraps his arms around Youngwoon’s shoulders like he wants to get closer, when any sane person would be wishing himself far, far away.

“Fuck, Ryeowook,” Youngwoon curses. “I never knew you were such a whore.” 

The whine that gets him makes him want to crush his mouth against Ryeowook’s, so he moves the gun out of the way to do just that. Leaving Ryeowook to rut against his thigh, he moves his hand from Ryeowook’s crotch up to undo the buttons of his vest.

Ryeowook’s increasingly desperate whimpers make Youngwoon himself increasingly desperate, and he ends up shoving his gun back into the holster under his arm so that he can work at the buttons with both hands. Whoever invented the three-piece suit should have been burned at the stake, he thinks, as he finally makes it through the vest and attacks the buttons of Ryeowook’s shirt. 

He’s having trouble concentrating on both Ryeowook’s mouth and his shirt, and eventually Ryeowook breaks away to lean back against the wall. Without Youngwoon’s mouth to muffle them, his little moans are downright obscene as he wraps a leg around one of Youngwoon’s to make it easier to grind against his thigh, so that by the time the last of his shirt buttons slips out, Youngwoon wonders why he even bothered opening anything other than pants. 

Still, he pauses to enjoy the sight of Ryeowook panting against the wall with his fancy suit hanging open. Ryeowook looks back at him, his eyeliner looking less dainty than slutty now that his lips are swollen and shiny with spit. 

“Hyung,” he says, tugging at Youngwoon’s shoulders to get him to come closer again. Youngwoon undoes Ryeowook’s pants instead, shoving them down to his ankles along with his boxer-briefs. Ryeowook slides one foot free from the puddle so that he can wrap it back around Youngwoon’s legs. 

Youngwoon doesn’t have anything to use for lube, so he slides his fingers into Ryeowook’s mouth and is surprised again when Ryeowook just moans and sucks on them like they’re some other part of Youngwoon’s anatomy. He does a couple things with his tongue that make Youngwoon wonder if he’ll ever be able to catch Ryeowook again to find out more about his mouth.

The mental image of Ryeowook with his mouth around Youngwoon’s dick just makes him more frantic, so he preps Ryeowook roughly, surprised when Ryeowook just urges him on with a, “Hyung, faster, please.”

At Ryeowook’s own urging, Youngwoon’s hoisting Ryeowook’s small frame against the wall, arms braced under Ryeowook’s thighs, long before he’d normally even dare to ask if a partner was ready. Ryeowook curses and throws his head back against the wall as Youngwoon slides in, but he’s begging Youngwoon to move even while his eyes are scrunched shut with obvious pain. For the first time since the incident in the bar Youngwoon has enough presence of mind to hesitate, but Ryeowook lets out a bitten-off cry just as Youngwoon is starting to wonder what the fuck he’s doing. The sound pushes all sane thought out of his head again, and he starts thrusting with abandon, trying to squeeze more moans and yelps out of Ryeowook. 

Youngwoon comes embarrassingly quickly, but the urge to hear Ryeowook’s moans doesn’t lessen at all as he pulls out and wraps a hand around Ryeowook’s cock to get him off. He puts his mouth on Ryeowook’s neck, under his ear, and sucks a hickey onto his skin for good measure while Ryeowook gasps, with the presence of mind to wonder why he’s feeling so possessive only returning when Ryeowook comes into his hand and falls silent. 

As his sanity returns, the reality of what’s just happened settles into his mind. Ryeowook is sagging against the wall, looking entirely too peaceful for someone who was just fucked at gunpoint by someone he really only barely knows. His arms are even still draped around Youngwoon’s shoulders. 

Ryeowook must sense Youngwoon’s change in mood, because he opens his eyes and gives Youngwoon one of his gentle smiles. “Relax, hyung. It’s natural.”

That just makes Youngwoon feel even more agitated. Even if it’s natural, he should have more control over himself than to do what he just did. Not only did he just rape a friend, he left himself wide open to attack right after a weird bar fight. None of this is natural.

But Ryeowook just leans up to kiss him and hums a couple notes, and Youngwoon feels the anxiety drifting out of him. “Really, hyung. It’s okay. I’m a siren. If anything, I should be the one apologizing.”

“You’re a what?” Youngwoon asks, head spinning. He’s heard of sirens, of course, but he’s never heard of any specific examples of sirens living in modern times, around here. 

“A siren,” Ryeowook repeats, buttoning up his shirt as he talks. “So was the other singer. I’m glad Hyukjae-hyung was there, or it would have been hard to stop her with you under her paranoia spell.”

“A siren,” Youngwoon repeats. The reality is starting to sink in when Ryeowook, clothes straightened out, wraps his arms around Youngwoon’s waist and starts humming again, and then Youngwoon can’t remember what was upsetting him. Surely it can wait until tomorrow, he thinks.


End file.
